


anywhere i roam (where i lay my head is home)

by Verfallen



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Epistolary, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Love Letters, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21842953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verfallen/pseuds/Verfallen
Summary: A few years after Billy moves back to California, Steve writes him a letter to try and reconnect.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 7
Kudos: 94
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etnoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/gifts).



> Happy holidays! I hope you enjoy this fic, and that your holiday season is merry :)

**TO:** Billy Hargrove  
_November 28th, 1988_

Dear Billy,

Sorry I haven’t been writing you very much lately. Neil says you’re a bad influence and he doesn’t want me talking to you anymore, but fuck him, right? I can’t believe it’s almost been two years since you left. Things have been calmer around the house but I still miss you a lot.

I moved into your old room and I still have your Motley Crue poster up even though I don’t really like that band. It reminds me of you. I listen to your old cassettes sometimes, too.

Guess what? I take my driver’s test in a week! Mom’s been helping me practice, and Steve Harrington has, too. You remember him, right? They’re both really boring drivers but I guess that’s why they never get any tickets. Don’t worry, I still remember all the lessons you gave me, too. I’d say I wish you were teaching me now but then I probably wouldn’t pass!

Anyway, I was thinking that once I have my full license, I could drive out to see you for a while. I’m nervous about driving across the country on my own but you weren’t much older than me when you did it and I’m not a wimp.

Write me back, asshole.

Your amazing sister,  
Max Mayfield

P.S.: Steve’s mailing this letter for me so if you don’t get it blame him. Send your reply to Steve’s address (it’s on the envelope), not to our house or Neil will throw it away if he gets the mail first.

**TO:** Max Mayfield  
_December 7th, 1988_

Hey Shitbird,

I can’t believe my own sister doesn’t like Mötley Crüe (that’s the way you’re supposed to write it, Maxine, it’s called an umlaut). Thanks for keeping my poster up, though, maybe it’ll rub off on you and you’ll be cool someday.

You’d definitely pass your test if I was teaching you. Not only would you pass, you’d get your picture up on the secret wall of badasses every license registry has for the people who know that speed limits are for pussies. By the time you get this letter you’ll have your license (you _did_ pass, right?) so it’ll be too late for my sage wisdom. Oh well.

Come and see me. You’ll do fine. You’ve got to be missing California by now, right? San Francisco’s not quite the same as San Diego, but I think you’d like it.

Your darling brother and favorite bad influence,  
Billy

**TO:** Billy Hargrove  
_December 8th, 1988_

Hey. This is Steve. I guess you probably knew that from the name on the envelope (and you better read this, don’t just be a jerk and rip it up). Max asked me to mail a letter for you and I stole your address. Sorry.

You don’t have to write me back if you don’t want to but I just want to know how you’re doing. I know we only dated for like three weeks but you moved away so soon after we broke up that I’ve always wondered if it was my fault.

I just had a lot going on and I was afraid of getting caught. I still think about you sometimes.

**TO:** Steve Harrington  
_December 16th, 1988_

What’s up, asshole?

First off, I didn’t move because of you. Get your head out of your ass. I moved because I got fed up with hiding and told my old man that I’m gay. I knew he was going to find out eventually, so I wanted to do it on my own terms when I could pack all my stuff in my car before he threw me out. I knew he would as soon as I told him. He’s always suspected something but I had him convinced that I at least liked girls. When I said I was into guys, and only guys? I’ve never seen his face get so red.

And yeah, he threw me out. Tried to pop me in the jaw too, but he’s not as fast as he used to be. The only reason I didn’t kick his ass is I didn’t need to have a reason for the cops to pull me over before I could cross the state line. Living in Indiana’s bad enough, I can’t imagine going to fucking prison there.

I’m doing great here. There’s a line-up of guys around the block just dying to get their hands on me. What is it that little shit from the old TV commercials says? A borgasmord? It’s a borgasmord of cock. Jesus, I sure hope no one opens this letter before you.

With love from dick heaven,  
Billy

**TO:** Billy Hargrove  
_December 22nd, 1988_

This is Steve again. Alright, I feel like I had to sterilize my entire room after reading that letter, so thanks. I’m surprised you didn’t jerk off on it for me.

I didn’t know you told your dad. You just up and left one day and I never got to say goodbye to you. I’m still kind of pissed off about that even though we broke up, just so you know. I still care about you, for some reason.

I’m glad you’re doing well. If you ever have to come back to Hawkins for an outstanding warrant on all those unpaid speeding tickets, look me up, alright?

**TO:** Steve Harrington  
_January 4th, 1989_

Dear prettyboy,

Why don’t you come and see me? I have my own place now. You’re still living with your parents, aren’t you? I recognize the address. You have no idea how awesome it is to have all your own shit. I can leave my laundry wherever I damn well want and I haven’t cleaned out the fridge in months. I’m pretty sure there are undiscovered life forms in there. It’s great.

Look, I know it’s a long way to drive to see the guy you fought with a couple times and fucked a couple more, but Max got her license and wants to come visit me. She’s scared to drive over on her own, and if I was a seventeen year old girl I wouldn’t be too excited to stay at a bunch of seedy motels on my way to the other side of the country, either.

I don’t know if she’ll come on her own and I really want to see her.

I suppose I want to see you too, fuckface.

From,  
Billy

P.S.: Are you ever going to learn how to write a proper letter? You don’t even sign them or anything. It’s like writing to a preschooler, I swear.

**TO:** Billy Hargrove  
_January 11th, 1989_

Dear Billy,

Did you tell Steve Harrington I was scared to come visit you by myself? I didn’t say I was SCARED. I said I was NERVOUS. Those are two very different things! You’re the worst and now Steve’s in one of his protective modes so he’s coming with me. I get to listen to Wham! for a whole day straight. Hooray.

I passed my test on the first try. Mom actually gave me her old car, so I’m driving that around now. It’s such a mom car that people are always surprised when I get out, but at least I have one. None of my friends can drive yet so I’m the coolest one now (I always was but now I’m even cooler).

I hid some of your tapes from dad. He threw out pretty much everything else that you didn’t take. Do you want them back? I have your Atari too but I’m keeping that. Mike has an NES and I’m saving up for one. Have you played Super Mario Brothers? It’s really fun, but I still can’t get enough of Yar’s Revenge.

You know, I was so mad when you got that Atari for Christmas. I wanted one but mom said that’s not a good toy for girls and got me clothes and fake jewelry instead, remember that? And you got the Atari. I don’t even know why you asked for one. You barely played it and then you gave it to me a few months later because you said it was “stupid”. I didn’t understand back then, but I think you were always going to give it to me even if you didn’t want to look like you cared.

But I’ve figured it out. I know your secret. You’re NICE sometimes.

Love,  
Max Mayfield

P.S.: I knöw whät än ümläüt is, I jüst dön’t think Motley Crue deserves öne.

**TO:** Max Mayfield  
_January 18th, 1989_

Max,

You’re going to put the exclamation mark in Wham! But you won’t spare an umlaut for Mötley Crüe? I’ve been away for too long. I didn’t teach you right. You can keep the tapes. You need good music in your life more than I do.

I wasn’t trying to be “nice”. I was trying to piss you off by giving you a terrible present (Atari definitely is stupid). The fact that you ended up loving it so much is just a coincidence.

But I have a really awesome, not stupid, late birthday present for you this time. Maybe I’m a little nice, but don’t tell anyone. Especially Harrington.

From,  
Billy

**TO:** Billy Hargrove  
_January 21st, 1989_

Dearest William Hargrove,

I apologize for the inadequacy of my previous correspondences. I will be accompanying your sister to San Francisco in a fortnight.

I await our reunion with grand anticipation.

The style guide I borrowed from Nancy says a good letter should have three paragraphs.

Sincerely,  
Steve Harrington

**TO:** Steve Harrington  
_February 4th, 1989_

Okay smartass,

You must have borrowed a thesaurus too because those are some pretty big words for you.

I’m glad you’re coming with Max. I know you’re going to take your car because you’re way too fancy to sit in Max’s old beater, but on the off chance you’ve come around and decided that used car seats won’t damage your well-bred backside I’m going to tell you that you should drive anyway.

I never told you what I was doing for work here, did I? I took an apprenticeship at an auto shop and it turns out I’m pretty awesome at it. There’s a lot of old rich people here (you know the type) so I get to work on a lot of badass cars even if the drivers are all lame office workers having a midlife crisis.

Anyway, you won’t believe the car that this guy dropped off at the shop - he sold it to me for a couple thousand after a minor accident that looked worse than it was. It’s an ‘87 Camaro in bright fucking bull-fighting red. It’s a goddamn beauty. That beemer’s going to look pretty sad in comparison, so try not to feel too bad (and don’t go buying a new car just to show me up, either).

I’ve missed a bunch of Max’s birthdays and Christmases so I’m giving her my ‘79 when she gets here. That’s why you need to come in your car, so you can drive back in it and she’ll follow behind you. Don’t ruin the surprise, or else.

From,  
Billy

P.S.: A fortnight is two weeks, Professor Harrington. You’re not coming until March. See you then.


	2. Chapter 2

**TO:** Billy Hargrove   
_April 17th, 1989_

I’ve been checking the mailbox every day wondering why you haven’t written me since we met up, and I was starting to get a little mad about it, but I’ve been sitting here trying to think of what to say to you and coming up blank so I can’t blame you too much.

Who’s supposed to apologize first when we’re both guys? Which one of us sends the flowers? This is complicated. I don’t even know why I feel like I need to apologize. If you were here right now I’d make out with you again, on the spot.

It just feels awkward that I left and neither of us talked about it. Write back. Please?

-Steve

**TO:** Billy Hargrove   
_April 21st, 1989_

Hey Billy,

I wish I could have taken a picture of everyone’s faces when they saw me in my new car. Or, your old car. Everyone’s really jealous. Dustin and Lucas think it’s cool now that I’m driving it. Mike says it’s dangerous but I think he’s just mad he failed his test because he couldn’t parallel park. I’ve sent you a couple pictures of me in the driver’s seat. I even have your old sunglasses on.

I was expecting Neil to be upset but mom was fine with it so he didn’t bother arguing. I’m eighteen now and I’ll be going to college in the fall (I got in!) so he doesn’t really care if I get into a little bit of trouble.

Hey, I know it’s none of my business, but I think something’s really been bothering Steve ever since we got back to Indiana. Maybe you should write him?

Love,  
Max Mayfield

P.S.: I’ve been listening to some of your tapes in the car and I guess Metallica’s alright. I even bought one of their newer albums. It’s not my favorite but it’s good music to drive to, even if there’s nowhere to drive really fast here.

**TO:** Billy Hargrove   
_May 5th, 1989_

I hope you’re not angry with me.

I know it was a supid idea, but if I can be honest here, when I was kissing you again it was the best I’ve felt in years. I didn’t think I was sad here even if I wasn’t exactly happy either, but seeing you has made me realize that maybe I’m more miserable than I thought I was. It happened so slowly that I didn’t even notice, like when you have to keep turning the heat up in the shower so it still feels warm. I got used to feeling shitty in Hawkins without you.

Please talk to me. I don’t know what we have between us and I don’t expect you to feel the same way but I just need to hear from you and get some resolution. Please.

-Steve

**TO:** Max Mayfield   
_May 7th, 1989_

Max,

I’ve had some shit going on at work so this is going to be late, sorry about that. It’s awesome that you got into college. I hate you’re still stuck with my jackass of a father and I hope you’re not downplaying how shitty he’s being. I’ll come and get you if you’re scared. I’m serious. I’ll drive back to bumfuck nowhere and pick you up.

Steve’s just being Steve. Don’t worry about him, he’s not your problem.

I knew you’d come around to Metallica. Soon you’ll be a full-on metalhead just like me. Your hair would be great for headbanging, you know. I can take you to a concert the next time you’re here (don’t worry, I’ll punch anyone who bothers you right in the face). If you really want to piss your mom off we could get you could get your first tattoo. I have five of them now, I don’t know if you counted. I’ll get a sixth as soon as I have the cash.

From,  
Billy

**TO:** Steve Harrington   
_May 21st, 1989_

~~I’m not mad at you~~

~~I don’t know how to tell you~~

I’ve started this letter a million times by now. Sorry if my handwriting’s sloppy, I’m a little buzzed because I need to write this thing out and send it before sober Billy realizes it’s a bad idea.

~~I’m sorry~~

Did you know that the three weeks I spent with you was the longest relationship I’ve ever had? Yeah. Before that it was just a string of one night stands with random chicks that I wasn’t really into but I had to get dad off my back somehow.

And here, well, I wasn’t lying about dick heaven, and I’ve had some great lays, but it’s all been a few nights at best. Usually just one. I figured I was just that sort of guy but after seeing you again all I can think is “I could be with someone for a really long time, if only that someone was Steve Harrington”.

I have a home here. I have people who accept me for who I am. It’s not easy but it’s something. I can’t go back to Hawkins. It’s just not the place for me.

But Jesus Christ, I miss you.

Every single day, I miss you so bad.

 ~~Love~~ From,  
Billy

**TO:** Billy Hargrove   
_June 1st, 1989_

Hey. Idiot.

I’ve been feeling the exact same way about you since the night I broke it off with you. I know you didn’t leave because of me but it sure felt like you did and I’ve been wondering every day what would have happened if I wasn’t such a moron. Maybe if you felt safe with me, you would have stayed, you know? I know you wouldn't have. You're not a Hawkins guy. But it doesn't stop me from wondering.

Why couldn’t we just talk to each other like this when we weren’t hundreds of miles apart and could actually do something about it? God. We’re both stupid.

You’re the only one I feel like myself around. Well, you and Robin. I never told you about Robin, did I? She’s great. She has a crush on Tammy Thompson (yeah, I _know_ , I gave her shit about that one) and I ended up spilling the beans about the time I dated you. But aside from you and her? It’s like I’m walking around with a blanket over my head, always afraid that someone’s going to pull it off and see what’s really underneath.

I like girls, too, so I thought that'd be simple enough. I’ve had a few dates in the last few years. I even went steady for a while, but there’s always this part of me I can never talk about and I don’t want to be with someone I’m afraid to be honest around so I find some stupid reason to break it off. And you know what? People have noticed. They think I’m a burnout. The girls who would’ve died to go to prom with me are laughing behind my back. You'll never believe this but I, Steve Harrington, am kind of a loser.

I never got into college. I work at the video store attached to the arcade and it’s alright (aside from the fact that Keith is my boss and boy you’d think he holds people’s lives in his hands with how much he power trips about late fees). My dad’s always been disappointed that I didn’t get my degree, though. He’s started paying a lot of attention to this young smart guy that started out as an intern for the company, and I think he’s grooming him into the position he used to say he was holding for me.

Dad offered me a job, but I don’t think I’m going to take it. I know it’s just a vanity position to cover up the fact that he thinks his kid’s a failure. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing that. I’d rather work at the video store.

~~I want to be with you.~~

I know that I can’t be with you. It’s crazy to think that I could. Right?

-Steve

**TO:** Billy Hargrove   
_June 6th, 1989_

Billy,

I'm not scared of him. He's getting old. He's slowed down a lot, and he just goes off and drinks by himself when he's angry now. I hate him for the way he treated you but I'm not afraid. I'll be out soon enough anyway.

But thanks for looking out for me. It means a lot. As for the tattoo, I might get one someday but I'm not letting you pick what it is or I'll be stuck with some weird skull thing. I'll go to the concert with you, though. Hopefully I can come by for the holidays.

Love,  
Max

**TO:** Steve Harrington   
_June 12th, 1989_

Steve,

Yeah, it’s fucking crazy. So was kissing me at the pool after hours, and climbing in my window after dark, and driving my sister all the way across the country so you could see that guy you had a fling with one more time.

You’re at your best when you’re doing crazy shit, Harrington.

Come on. Look at yourself. You think you’re that washed up? You think King Steve’s already done for? That’s not you. That’s not the way you are with me. You’re fucking incredible and you’re going to forget that if you let yourself sit and rot in a town that’s not big enough to handle you.

Remember that night I came to your house and we got absolutely hammered and I nearly fell off your balcony? I was drunk as fuck but I still remember you telling me that you don’t want to end up like your dad. I thought that was weird because your dad’s filthy rich, but I know what you meant now. You didn’t want to be stuck with a family you barely like, in a small town you’re too established in to leave, with a job you hate that pays so well that there’s no way you can quit.

No, more than that, even. You don’t want to settle down so fast. You don’t want to become the same adult you spent your teen years hating.

So be the wild, unrestrained King Steve that started this whole mess and come live with me. Hawkins will still be there if you really hate it here, but if you never try you’ll never know.

If that doesn’t convince you, how about this:

I love you.

You’re the third person I’ve ever said that to. I don’t think there’ll be a fourth. If it cant be you and me, it'll be me and nobody. Don't freak out on me because we haven't known each other all that long, okay? You still know me better than anyone else, and I think I know you better, too. I know you're happy with me.

Besides, you’re a catch. Who wouldn’t fall for you?

Love,  
Billy

**TO:** Billy Hargrove   
_June 23rd, 1989_

God, part of me wants to get up and leave right now and another part is screaming at me for having so many stupid ideas. I'm not like you, I've never had to fend for myself, maybe I'm just a stupid spoiled rich boy that'll never be able to take care of himself. Or maybe I'd be just fine. I don't know.

I do know that if I don’t leave now, I'm scared that I never will. If I can't leave for you, then what the hell will I leave for? Nothing, that's what.

We need to talk about this, Billy. Will you call me? I wrote my phone number on the other side. You can call collect if you want, my dad won’t even notice the charge.

-Steve

And by the way, I love you too. Of course I do. If I knew you were leaving Hawkins I’d have told you sooner.


	3. Chapter 3

**TO:** Max Mayfield   
_December 12th, 1989_

Max,

How’s your first semester at college going? You didn’t flunk already, did you? I know I’m your role model but you don’t have to do as badly in school as I did. You can cheat on tests if you want, I’ll give you a high five for that (as long as you don't get caught).

Steve’s finally starting to get comfortable here. You should see how much goddamn luggage he brought, his car was practically sinking under the weight. He brought an entire suitcase full of winter clothes to San Francisco and would not get rid of them until December hit and it still wasn’t cold enough for his big fluffy jacket. He does look good in that jacket, but there's only so much room in our closet.

You’ve been to Steve’s house. It’s massive, and he was alone in it a lot of the time so you can take a good guess at the amount of space he’s used to having. Considering that, he’s doing pretty well in a one bedroom apartment. We both sold some stuff we didn’t need and it’s cozy but we’re making it work. He's learning to live a little leaner, though he still doesn't like buying store brand.

He’s taking some classes at the local community college, just for a bunch of different things. I think he’ll be good at whatever he chooses, I’m biased but he’s really fucking charming. He’s working harder than ever now that his parents have cut him off but he seems happier than usual despite that.

At least, I think he does. I know I went a couple years without seeing him but he always felt...I don’t know. A little lost. Like he thought his life was over as soon as he finished high school. I know, it’s ridiculous, a guy like Steve Harrington thinking that being cool in high school was the best he could ever do. He’s dumb like that sometimes. Since he moved here he’s been smiling every day, and I know this isn’t very good for my image but I have, too. If people start thinking I’m some sort of softie, it’s Steve’s fault. I can still kick everyone's ass, and don't you forget it.

He’s still getting used to living in a city. He walks around like a tourist, staring up at every building that’s more than five stories tall like he’s never seen anything so amazing in his life. We go to the beach a lot, it’s something we can do for free and I’m paying all the bills right now so free’s about as expensive as we can get. I didn’t think he’d be a good swimmer, but he actually is. He didn’t tell me until I started trying to give him swimming lessons but he was on the Hawkins swim team before that was axed due to budget cuts and he switched to basketball.

It’s a good thing, too. If I would’ve rolled into Hawkins and the first thing I saw was Steve Harrington in a goddamn speedo I think I would have had a heart attack.

I took him to his first big concert. We compromised between pop and metal and went with rock. At least, that was as much as I was willing to compromise right now (I'll take him to his dumb pop concerts eventually). He thought we'd be sitting down the entire time, like we were going to a movie theater. I couldn't drag him into the mosh pit, he said it'd mess his hair up too much. And he spent the next few days covering his ears and moaning about how they were never going to stop ringing, but despite that I think he had a good time. These small-town folk just aren’t as tough as us city slickers, you know?

I'll still take you to a concert too when you come and visit. If Steve tries to fake sick to get out of it, don't believe him. Alright, I'm running out of paper and Steve's been whining at me to come to bed for the last ten minutes.

I’ll see you soon. Call me when you're leaving town, I'll try and make the place look nice (but don't get your hopes up too high).

Love, (yeah, your big brother's not too cool to sign it 'love' anymore)  
Billy


End file.
